


Secret Santa

by risotto



Category: Free!
Genre: Christmas, Gift Fic, Kind of fluffy, M/M, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 05:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risotto/pseuds/risotto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rin's eggnog, a Secret Santa, and ugly sweaters—these are just a few of the draws to Samezuka's annual Christmas party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Santa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dettsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettsu/gifts).



> Late Christmas gift (it's still the 25th here) for dettsu, who ships SeiMako (a.k.a., fire orca, captain parents, et al) so much. <3
> 
> Hope you like it!

It's Nitori that invites the Iwatobi club to Samezuka's Christmas party. The forwarded e-mail has the expected green and red font, festive clipart, and the details: Time and date (7:00 pm on the 24th), location (Samezuka Academy, dormitory B), and a small list of activities and games. What captures Makoto's attention most of all is the little addendum at the bottom:

> And for the first time ever, this year we're having a Secret Santa! Participation is voluntary! If you're interested, when you R.S.V.P. add a little note saying you want to join in on the fun. You'll get an e-mail in a few days with who you have to buy a gift for! But don't tell them! Remember: a secret is only kept between three men if two of them are dead.

Makoto wonders if Amakata-sensei wrote that last bit before he clicks 'reply', shrugs, and types a quick response:

> From: titan1117@softbank.ne.jp
> 
> To: ai_wan@goo.ne.jp
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: You're Invited to The Samezuka X-Mas Party!!!
> 
> Hi, I would like to attend the party. Thank you very much for the invitation. =) I would also like to participate in the Secret Santa!

 

And not even a day later, Makoto gets a reply in his inbox: 

 

> From: ai_wan@goo.ne.jp
> 
> To: titan1117@softbank.ne.jp
> 
> SUBJECT: RE: Re: You're Invited to Samezuka X-Mas Party!!!
> 
> >> thank you very much tachibana-san!!!
> 
> i'm looking forward to seeing you at the party!!! ∩( ・ω・)∩ 
> 
> btw you have mikoshiba-buchou for the secret santa
> 
> he is very easygoing so anything will be fine as a gift but he's working so hard for this party & for the team so please buy him something very nice!!!
> 
> see you there senpai!!! ∩( ・ω・)∩ 

 

\- -

 

Dormitory B at Samezuka Academy is already alive with partiers when Makoto and Haruka arrive at the campus two hours after things start. Modern twists on classic Christmas songs are playing through speakers, loud enough to be heard from the main gates. Garlands and holly leaves are draped everywhere. The scent of fried chicken is carried along the brisk December wind outside as they approach.

“Smells good,” Makoto says, shifting his wrapped gift box from one arm to the other.

"Mackerel smells better,” Haruka says without a second to spare.

Makoto fights the urge to roll his eyes. That's not a surprise. He looks his friend over, quietly noting the lack of any sort of gift boxes in his hands. When they confirmed they were attending a week prior, Makoto had asked him if he'd participate in the Secret Santa. Haruka snorted softly and said something to the effect of it being too bothersome. That's not a surprise, either.

Inside, the building is filled to the brim with people, mostly students looking for any excuse to party. There are some girls from neighboring schools milling about. Apparently, they weren't the only outsiders invited. 

“Tachibana-san! Nanase-san!”

Aiichirou Nitori's tenor slices through the gathered voices, growing louder and closer until he's finally standing before the two swimmers, apple-cheeked and wearing, of all things, a brown headband with reindeer antlers attached to it and a fake nose that blinks with a bright red light to match. Topping it all off is a sky-blue wool sweater with a large Santa Snoopy design on it. “Tachibana-san! Nanase-san! You made it!”

Haruka's eyebrows furrow just a little at the first-year's getup but he ultimately says nothing of it and hands his removed coat, scarf, and gloves to Makoto, who sets them on a nearby chair. 

“Thank you for inviting us, Nitori-kun,” Makoto says. “I hope we’re not too late. The trains are on a funny schedule.”

“It’s okay. Come on,” the silver-haired boy grabs them by the wrists and pulls them into the dorm’s main lounging area where a modest Christmas tree stands, trimmed with ornaments and stockings and candy canes. The angel on the very top isn't an angel at all. Not a traditional one, anyway—it's a shark-angel hybrid wearing a halo and the white Samezuka Academy school uniform. 

Samezuka Academy is a strange place, Makoto thinks. 

Their little trek ends by a refreshments table. Two large punch bowls flank a large white Christmas cake, decorated with yummy-looking frosting and strawberries. There are small paper cups all over the table as well as several buckets from KFC. Just a whiff of the stuff makes Makoto's mouth water but he holds back on his urges, for now.

Nitori stops and looks between them, his face faulting into a small frown. “Oh, by the way, where are Ryugazaki-san and Hazuki-san?”

Nagisa had been dragged, kicking and screaming, by his sisters to a social gathering at the last minute. Rei's family had their own obligations as well. “They couldn't make it, but they send their regards,” Makoto offers.

“Aww.” Nitori's disappointment lasts for all of two seconds before he's standing upright and thrusting two small cups of something toward them. “Here! Have some of this!”

Wincing at the demise of the first-year's indoor voice, Makoto takes the paper cup and peers inside of it; the drink is pale in color and creamy, but unfamiliar. Haruka actually sniffs his cup, unashamed. “What is this?”

“Eggnog! Matsuoka—er, Rin-senpai made it,” Nitori chirps proudly, his nose blinking an even brighter red. “He says he learned the recipe while in Australia! It's good!”

Makoto and Haruka look down at their cups then at each other before they both shrug and take a first sip.

Haruka hacks but succeeds in swallowing his sip. Makoto isn't as lucky. The burn of something catches him by surprise and if it weren't for his hand clamped over his mouth, he's certain he would've spit-sprayed his drink all over poor Nitori and Snoopy.

“N-Nitori-kun, there's alcohol in this!” Makoto sputters.

“Oh, yes,” Nitori hums, casual, “the secret ingredient is rum. Good, huh? I've had like five cups already. Do you want some more?”

Both Haruka and Makoto vigorously shake their heads in unison.

Before Nitori can insist, someone makes an appearance from somewhere behind them. Unlike his junior, he isn't dressed festively at all. Just simple black clothes and a tiny scowl for him. There's a small Burberry shopping bag looped through his forearm. “You guys talking smack about my eggnog?”

“Oh, Rin, hello!” Makoto winces through his smile and tries to ignore the row of tiny shark-like teeth gleaming at them in the dim lights. “N-No, we weren't...”

Rin steps closer to them, his expression softening. He even cracks a grin. “Just giving you a hard time,” he says, looking at the gift box in Makoto's hands, “what's that?”

“Oh,” Makoto blushes and peers down at the glossy wrapping paper. Green, dotted with a white snowflake and holly leaves pattern; a red satin bow tied in cross formation over it keeps it in place. Ren and Ran did a wonderful job. “I'm playing Secret Santa...”

“You can put it under the tree with the others.”

Makoto shakes his head, timidly. “I'd rather give this to him in person.”

There's a glint of something in Rin's eyes and he smirks. “You never change, do you?”

Haruka nudges Rin with his elbow. “What?” Rin's voice takes a defensive tone. “I was complimenting him!”

“Oh, there goes Mikoshiba-buchou,” Nitori says abruptly and starts flailing like a madman toward someone in the distance and Makoto's thankful for the interruption. 

“ _Oiiiii_!”

But his ears aren’t.

All heads jerk sharply toward the captain’s booming voice coming in from the parlor. And perhaps with good reason.

Mikoshiba’s taken Nitori’s approach and dressed festively, except a lot more subtle. Bullet trains crashing through the roof are less subtle than what Nitori’s wearing, really, but Mikoshiba manages to pull it off without embarrassingly awful décor. He’s wearing some shiny red pajama pants and a matching robe, both made of silk or something similar with the price tag still dangling from one of the cuffs—probably a gift he couldn’t wait to show off. In so many ways.

The robe is undone, brazenly left open despite the season, exposing his torso and the smooth tanned skin and impressive sinew that seems to crawl as the captain moves.

“Stop checking him out,” Rin growls lowly to no one in particular. Maybe to himself. Maybe to all of them.

It’s unusually quiet around their small group when he reaches them. “What? Something funny?” Seijuurou asks.

An answer doesn’t come right away. Likely because of the very distracting candy cane dangling from his mouth. At least, that’s what Makoto thinks.

A loud ‘pop’—a cork coming off a bottle of something they later discover—and an eruption of cheers and laughter from the lounge tears everyone’s attentions away from the captain's body. “Are you guys just going to hug the wall?” Mikoshiba plants one hand on Nitori’s back and the other on Makoto’s, and starts to gently push. “Come on, let’s party!”

Rin waves them off when Makoto looks furtively over his shoulder at him and Haru. “We’ll catch up in a second,” he mutters, taking the bag off his forearm while Haru reaches into his own pocket for something—a small, wrapped box.

Makoto just nods once and gives them a knowing smile.

 

\--

 

Haru and Rin don’t catch up in a second, or even in the next fifteen minutes, but they do eventually—and Haru returns, wearing an expensive-looking scarf that reminds Makoto of something Rin wore when they were younger. While they manage to spend a good chunk of the next couple of hours with Makoto and Nitori, every so often they quietly drift away to some supposedly quiet pocket of space to talk, away from the noise and prying eyes of the party. 

It’s not as if Makoto could keep track of their little sojourns enough to notice anyway, seeing as how Nitori—without his senpai around—designates Makoto as his surrogate and more or less attaches himself to his hip. Not exactly a bad thing, really, as he’s good (if chatty) company. He introduces Makoto to everyone they pass, even if he himself doesn’t know them, and fetches Makoto’s gift for him without being prompted (a gift card to some department store from Nakagawa); Nitori’s also surprisingly good at every card game imaginable. But in the end, the boy favors Rin’s eggnog a bit too much. 

By the time the clock nears midnight, Makoto learns more about Aiichirou Nitori than he ever thought he wanted to know. Including the fact that he murmurs “senpai” in his sleep. Once he’s slumped over after one too many eggnogs, Makoto’s left with no choice but to carry him to his room. He tucks him into the first bed he sees in there and doesn’t even take his antlers off for him.

The door across the hall from Rin and Nitori’s room is halfway open. Nothing unusual, all things considered. Makoto would’ve ignored it if not for the flash of bright red coming from inside. 

It’s Mikoshiba’s room.

It's beckoning him, and he finds his fingers tightening around the gift box that he's managed to hold on to for the past few hours, through the games and Nitori’s lingering hugs and rants about four hundred-meter medley training.

“Um, hello?” He shyly pokes his head in.

It's Mikoshiba's room all right and he's standing by the window. It’s cracked open and there are two cups of Rin's special eggnog on the windowsill and Makoto can't even begin to determine what all is going on in there. Maybe, he thinks, he's better off not knowing.

“Oi, Tachibana!” Mikoshiba waves him inside. “What's up? Got lost?”

 _Sort of_ , Makoto almost says. “No, sorry for the intrusion,” he pauses, chews on his lower lip, “--er, I'm...not interrupting anything, am I?”

Cold air is gushing in but it admittedly feels kind of nice in contrast to the warm, stuffy air of the indoors. Mikoshiba takes everything in stride. “Nah, just cooling off. Matsuoka's drink—it makes me hot.”

A choked noise almost escapes Makoto. With cleverly feigned coughing, he's able to cover it up. “I came to give you this before we leave,” at long last, Makoto hands over the box, “Merry Christmas, Mikoshiba-buchou.”

Seijuurou has the most expressive eyebrows Makoto has ever seen. They furrow and raise, together then one at a time, and even curl a little—and Makoto's not even sure how that's possible—before they settle in a happy arch, to match the shine in his amber eyes and the quirked corners of his lips. “For me?”

“Secret Santa,” Makoto murmurs, his face burning and stomach twisting into a tight knot.

“Mind if I open it now?” Seijuurou asks, even though he doesn't need to. The alarm clock on one of the desks reads five past twelve. 

“It's Christmas,” is all Makoto needs to say before Seijuurou...well, he doesn't open it so much as he tears into it, making short work of the wrapping paper with strong and deft fingers like a child on Christmas morning. The analogy is so fitting, Makoto has to laugh.

“Oh?” Seijuurou holds the garment along his arm then against himself, testing the wool and checking the design—a white snowflake and argyle pattern with red dotting against bold green—more closely. Then he's smiling sharply at it. “This is awesome. Did you make this?”

“N-No, my mother did. When she learned I was doing the Secret Santa...well, nothing could stop her.”

Seijuurou's laughing and gushing and Makoto can't believe he's receiving it so well. Intentionally 'ugly' Christmas sweaters are a trend in the West but he honestly couldn't tell if Seijuurou'd ever be the type to appreciate something like it. 

Not only does he appreciate it but, goodness, he's actually _putting it on_.

It's supposed to be ugly yet, somehow someway, Seijuurou looks good in it. Very good. 

Seijuurou takes off his Santa hat and combs his fingers back through the organized chaos that's his hair. A quick, meaningless gesture but it makes him look slightly tousled, like he's just finished...

“So?”

Makoto blinks. It takes him nearly a full minute to realize he's been staring. “Huh?”

“How do I look?” Seijuurou cheekily pinches the small white cowl collar and airs himself out. Hot, Seijuurou implies. He doesn't need to imply.

“Ugly,” Makoto says instead of the truth. 

It earns him a loud bark of a laugh and a hearty smack to his back. “You're one funny guy, Tachibana.” Something in the box rattles when he shakes it by accident. “Oh? But wait there's more?”

“Y-Yeah.” Makoto nearly forgot about it himself. It's nothing major—a book with an attached CD-Rom program—just something that struck him as he was browsing through a department store on his own, lost for what to get a rival swim team's captain on Christmas.

The mirth drains from Seijuurou's face. His mouth drops the smile, jaw going tight. As he eyes the small green, yellow, and blue packaging, his expressive brows furrow, creasing together between his eyes. “Brazilian Portuguese?”

That's when panic strikes Makoto directly in the heart. His hands almost flail. “I'm—it's not a joke or anything this time, I promise.”

One of Seijuurou's brows slowly lifts as he looks between the language-learning software and Makoto as if he's waiting for some kind of explanation. Makoto, meanwhile, feels like he wants to just dive out the window instead.

“It's for when you go to the Olympics in Rio.” Makoto winces.

At least Seijuurou's not doing that intense staring thing anymore, though Makoto finds himself preferring _that_ to the way the package nearly slips from the redhead's weakened grip. It's almost heartbreaking.

“I'm sorry,” Makoto blurts out, taking a retreating step backwards. “The gift receipt's tucked inside, you can return it— _mmmnph_!”

Seijuurou's kiss is sweet and it has a bite to it; he can taste the candy cane’s peppermint mixed with the eggnog’s rum. It isn't anything at all like how Makoto ever expected it would be—which is to say, he doesn’t know. He never expected it. At all. It's why it's regrettably brief, why there's no tongue or none of the grinding or moaning like in the movies. Seijuurou pulls away just as Makoto tries to properly respond. 

Just as someone outside calls for the captain, of course.

Still, there's a dusky look in the redhead's eyes when he purrs, “Thank you,” and, “Merry Christmas,” and steps away to handle whatever's demanding his presence outside.

“Yeah…” 

Makoto's eyes are unblinking and wide and staring at everything and nothing at the same time. Long after Seijuurou’s gone, he remains standing there in the room, lost in a timeless daze and unaware of anything except the lingering peppermint and faint rum flavors on his lips. 

Rin comes by later—who knows how much later, really—to fetch him. “ _There_ you are. Ready to go, Makoto?”

“Yeah...”

“So...you coming or what?”

“Yeah...”

Makoto doesn't move. He hears Rin sidle up to him and sees him wave a hand experimentally in front of his eyes. He notices the suspiciously new brown leather hand bracelet and the inscription “For the Team” on it in Haru's handwriting on his wrist, but he doesn't move.

“The hell, Makoto?” Rin tugs on his arm. “Did you get a good gift or something?”

Oh he got it all right. 

Finally, Makoto blinks, snapping back into reality, and moves along with Rin, blushing and nodding a little as they head out to meet Haru downstairs.

They’re almost to the train station when Makoto pipes up: “Hey, Rin? That eggnog of yours?”

“Mm? What about it?”

“It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”

 --

**Author's Note:**

> Mikoshiba's sweater inspired by this wonderful fanart: [here on tumblr](http://hubedihubbe.tumblr.com/post/70889483195/heres-a-captain-bowchikawowow-uploading-the-last). All credit to the artist. Unf.


End file.
